Last week we signed up for a regatta in Lake Izabal, which makes up the last section of the Rio Dulce. We’d heard that there had been some trouble in this part of the river in the recent past and we were encouraged to travel with other people; this seemed like a good way to explore.
The regatta was put together as a PR campaign for a town in the area to promote their annual festival and to encourage tourism. In the end it wasn’t a race as much as a group motor to the town, but it was fun. There was no wind to speak of but there were photographers along the route and a Guatemalan TV station was there to get footage. We were asked to put on a good show for the cameras so we motored with our sails up and our country flags hanging from the spreaders. When we arrived at the town we had a small boat parade along the seawall while locals looked on. Adam would like to point out that traditionally this type of event is called a sail past, even though the other sailors were calling it a Yachtie Parade – he cannot abide by the misuse of nautical terminology.
The festivities that night were not exactly what we expected. When we arrived we were surprised to discover that, in addition to a navy patrol boat, we were being guarded for the night by 30 to 40 armed soldiers stationed on the shore. We were brought into the town by dinghy and ushered into a large building where they fed us dinner and played us music. The door was guarded and non-sailors were kept out. It was bizarre and we felt a bit uncomfortable; we thought that we would just be attending the festival and instead we basically had a separate gringo event. We did manage to see about 10 minutes of a band playing before we were whisked back to our boat for the night, and there was a spectacular fireworks display that we watched from the cockpit.
The next day we set out with a group of boats to the far west end of the lake to anchor and do some river exploration by dinghy. We decided to sail the Tasha Yar down the narrow channel, which had blood red water and was surrounded by jungle. We saw crazy jumping fish in the water, birds of all sizes, and two groups of howler monkeys. The monkeys seemed more interested in food than us and they barley glanced our way. Just after sunset though they started coming alive and their screams echoed through the mountains as groups called to one another. It sounded like lions and grizzly bears fighting each other over a loudspeaker – it was amazing and kind of creepy as the evening mist settled over the water.
The regatta was put together as a PR campaign for a town in the area to promote their annual festival and to encourage tourism. In the end it wasn’t a race as much as a group motor to the town, but it was fun. There was no wind to speak of but there were photographers along the route and a Guatemalan TV station was there to get footage. We were asked to put on a good show for the cameras so we motored with our sails up and our country flags hanging from the spreaders. When we arrived at the town we had a small boat parade along the seawall while locals looked on. Adam would like to point out that traditionally this type of event is called a sail past, even though the other sailors were calling it a Yachtie Parade – he cannot abide by the misuse of nautical terminology.
The festivities that night were not exactly what we expected. When we arrived we were surprised to discover that, in addition to a navy patrol boat, we were being guarded for the night by 30 to 40 armed soldiers stationed on the shore. We were brought into the town by dinghy and ushered into a large building where they fed us dinner and played us music. The door was guarded and non-sailors were kept out. It was bizarre and we felt a bit uncomfortable; we thought that we would just be attending the festival and instead we basically had a separate gringo event. We did manage to see about 10 minutes of a band playing before we were whisked back to our boat for the night, and there was a spectacular fireworks display that we watched from the cockpit.
The next day we set out with a group of boats to the far west end of the lake to anchor and do some river exploration by dinghy. We decided to sail the Tasha Yar down the narrow channel, which had blood red water and was surrounded by jungle. We saw crazy jumping fish in the water, birds of all sizes, and two groups of howler monkeys. The monkeys seemed more interested in food than us and they barley glanced our way. Just after sunset though they started coming alive and their screams echoed through the mountains as groups called to one another. It sounded like lions and grizzly bears fighting each other over a loudspeaker – it was amazing and kind of creepy as the evening mist settled over the water.